


Taste of Divine Rush

by DarkCommet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abusive Relationships, BAMF Ginny Weasley, Blood Magic, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Dark Magic, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fae Magic, Feels, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magical Accidents, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Romance in times of War, Saving the World, Slow Burn, True Mates, War, Witches, Wizarding World, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCommet/pseuds/DarkCommet
Summary: It starts with a journal and the boy trapped inside it with the dark eyes and the twisted smiles. A boy that teaches her old magic and kisses her like her despises her, hard and unyielding. It starts again with a flash of green light and a woman with golden hair and a fire rushing through her veins where her blood should be.





	1. Chapter 1

The journal Ginny Weasley finds tucked between the lip of her cauldron and her second-hand potions book is entirely unimpressive. Worn leather, pliant beneath her fingers, with yellowing parchment bound safely between. Ginny doesn't remember either of her parents purchasing the journal for her and she doesn't remember any of her brothers having picked it up somewhere. 

But surely it must have belonged to someone in her family because it's too worn to be new which means that it wouldn't have belonged to any of the pure blooded aristocrats that Ginny has often overheard her parents muttering about. And without much thought Ginny flips the front cover open to reveal a yellowing pages void of writing or notations or drawings. 

Ginny frowns as she drums her fingers against her thigh. 

She's aware of her family's financial status. Her father's job keeps them fed and clothed and comfortable but they do not have enough money to buy new school supplies for their children every year. Ginny's clothes are new, yes, but only because she can't wear the boy's uniform... And so her parents had directed her to the second hand section at Madam Malkin’s to gather the appropriate clothes.

The only thing in her supplies that isn't second hand is the yew wand with the unicorn hair tale core her father had bought for her at Ollivianders just the other day. It's beautiful, her wand. Shiny black wood with a twisted handle that fits easily in her grip. And the best thing? The very best thing is that it's hers. No one else has had it before her, it's not like Ron's wand that used to belong to Charlie and Ginny's so thankful for that because she wouldn't hear the end of it from she schoolmates. 

"Hey Gin, supper's ready." 

Ginny shuts the journal and turns to look at Fred, who is standing in the doorway of her little room. 

"I'll be right down." She promises. 

The older boy nods before darting down the hall, the door slamming shut behind him. 

With a sigh Ginny tosses the journal back into the cauldron it came from and rolls off the bed. She nearly trips over her pajama bottoms, too long and too big to fit her skinny frame properly. But it's alright. At least they're warm and had been worn so often by her brother bill during his youth that the fabric had turned soft to the touch. Ginny pinches the stripped fabric between her fingers and rubs them thoughtfully. 

She doesn't mean to run into Harry Potter, really she doesn't, but he's stepping out of Ron's room and Ginny isn't paying enough attention to stop herself from running full tilt into him. 

Heat, red and abundant, rises in Ginny's cheeks until the color matches that of her eyebrows or the fiery auburn hair that crowns her head. And the worst part is that he doesn't even look angry, or annoyed, he's _smiling_ at her her.  

He's talking to her. 

"Sorry Harry." She mutters, eyes trained on his feet because what damage can that cause?

Before he can ask if she's alright or if she's feeling well Ginny darts off to the dining room and plops herself down between the twins. 

George smiles at her and Fred tugs at her braid but neither of them comment on the blush. This is why they're her favorite. Oh, she loves all of her siblings but Fred and George are her absolute favorite. They give her little gifts from Hogsmeade and on the holidays they give her little inventions that they've perfected at school. Each little trinket makes its way to the rickety old shelves pressed against her wall. 

When Harry Potter takes the chair across from hers Ginny makes a point not to look at him all throughout dinner. 

"Mental." She hears Ron mutter and she knows he's talking about her. 

Ginny tears into her chicken with more vigor than needed and tries not to think about Harry's eyes on her. She eats quickly, shoving food in her mouth the moment she's swallowed the first mouthful, and the moment she's done eating Ginny turns to her mother. 

"Mum, may I be excused?" Ginny asks, soft and timid. 

"Did you get enough to eat, dear?" Her mother asks, brown eyes kind. Ginny nods. "Do you want desert?" 

"No thanks, mum, I'm going to go make sure I have everything together for tomorrow." 

"Alright, dear." 

Ginny's gone before her mother can finish her endearment. Rushing out of the dinning room, up the rickety steps, and into her bedroom where the journal is waiting in her cauldron. She ignores it in favor of sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off her socks. Then she wonders over to where her trunk is waiting and begins making sure everything is packed and ready to go. 

Her robes are carefully folded at the top of the clothes she's packed away, her under things are tucked against the side of the trunk, two pairs of shoes are on the opposite side of her clothes, waiting for the books and cauldron to be stacked on top. Ginny takes the pile of books on the little desk tucked in the corner and piles them on top of the shoes in her trunk. 

Then she grabs the cauldron and hauls it over the lip to rest it in the last bit of open space in her trunk. 

The journal waiting in the cauldron is a curious little thing but Ginny doesn't grab it when she shuts the lid of her trunk. Quite frankly, she barely thinks about the journal in favor of slipping into bed and rolling to face the wall. She's asleep within minutes and if she dreams of dark eyes and a twisted smile she doesn't remember it the next morning. 

 

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy is vile. A bully. Not worth the trouble of even acknowledging his existence. That's what Hermione says. Ginny likes Hermione, she doesn't quite understand why Ronald disliked the little bushy haired girl during the beginning of their first year. 

Hermione Granger is sweet. 

She doesn't comment on Ginny's second hand clothing or her worn down shoes, she doesn't mock Ginny for not knowing something, and Ginny's fairly certain that if anything were to happen she could go to Hermione and ask for advice... It's something she's taken advantage of in the short time they've known each other. But Ginny doesn't go to Hermione when she trips over a carefully positioned foot, or when the Slytherins make snide comments about her during class, or when Draco Malfoy charms her bag to rip open in the corridor which results in her being late to her first Potions class with Snape. 

By the end of her second week Ginny has been tripped, pushed, pocked at, and mocked. 

And she's so tired of it. 

But Draco and his mates don't seem to be tiring of it at all. They're the worst of Ginny's bullies. At least the others have better things to do than mock and tease her as consistently as Draco does.

And one day it gets... Bad. 

Ugly is a better word for it perhaps seeing as Ginny knows she shouldn't react the way she does... But she's so _angry_. Because Draco Malfoy just called her family rubbish, just said they're no better than muggles or the little Mudblood Potter runs around with. And how dare he. How does he have any right to call Ginny's family rubbish when his father murdered and tortured people under the orders of a mad man? How does he have any right to compare them to muggles when Ginny's friend is muggle born and smarter than Draco Malfoy will ever hope to be.

Ginny tries to ignore it, tries to shove past Malfoy and not so how bothered she is, but then Draco Malfoy tells Ginny that she won't amount to anything. Tells her that because she's a Weasley she's filthy, tells her that she'll end up working some rubbish job in a poor attempt to support all of the little mouths her no good husband will lay on her before leaving her for a prettier, younger witch. 

And before she realizes what she's doing Ginny is raising her wand and muttering under her breath and Malfoy's eyes go wide, wide, wide as a large green bat-like creature begins pulling itself from his nose. 

She stays for a brief moment, to watch as the bat circles around Malfoy's incredibly blond head, before darting between Crabbe and Goyle. They're too distracted trying to help their leader to realize she's running down the corridor in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Ginny doesn't stop when classmates as what's going on and she doesn't stop when she hears the gentle reprimands Hermione is giving Ronald as they slip into the great hall for dinner. 

But when the Fat Lady asks her for the password Ginny manages a panting, "Wattlebird." 

The woman nods, smiling pleasantly, and promptly lets Ginny back into the now empty common room. 

Everyone else is at dinner. Ginny's all the more thankful for it. She doesn't want to look at any of her siblings, or Hermione, or Harry. She doesn't want to even think about her confrontation with Malfoy but how can she think of anything else? She's always known her family wasn't rich like the Malfoys or the Blacks but she'd never considered herself impoverished or lacking by any means. 

And she'd never thought that she'd be seen as lesser by other wizards and witches just because of her family and the friends she's made. 

Not until Hogwarts. 

Ginny slams the door to her shared dorm shut and storms over to the bed where she throws herself onto the crimson duvet. The rage doesn't leave though, not even as Ginny sucks in careful breaths and tries to calm herself down. And so it's with a frustrated sigh that Ginny tosses her pillow across the room. 

There's a heavy thunk as the pillow hits the door. 

The girl frowns as she makes her way over to where her pillow rests on the floor. She notices the rectangular outline almost instantly and tilts her head to the side. Honestly, she doesn't remember putting the journal in her pillow case but... She must have. How else could it have gotten there? 

Ginny sighs as she pulls out the journal and tosses the pillow back onto the bed. 

Without much thought Ginny runs the pad of her thumb over the cover. No one's mentioned the journal since she's found it in her cauldron and Ginny doesn't think anyone would actually attempt to claim it anyway what with nothing being written inside... So who would care if Ginny wrote in it? It's not like she can go to anyone about this. Malfoy's father has too much sway and too much pride to tolerate whatever punishment is given to his son for his actions toward Ginny. 

And didn't Hermione say that talking about one's problems help? 

Well, it wouldn't exactly be talking but Ginny thinks it would be better than nothing. 

So she moves to grab a quill and an inkwell before moving to her bed. She makes sure to pull the curtains and place a large book down for her inkwell to rest on before she dips her quill into the think black substance. 

She flips to the first empty page. 

_September 15, 1992._

Her penmanship is a bit shaky. Ginny blames it on her rage. 

Rage that quickly turns to confusion as the ink seeps into the parchment and disappears entirely. 

Ginny runs the pads of her fingers over the now spotless page and frowns harder when she finds the parchment is dry and her fingers are clear. 

 _Hello, I see you've found my diary._  

"Merlin's beard." Ginny mutters, eyes wide, as the new words that aren't in her writing appear on the page. 

The penmanship is immaculate and clear to read. Obviously written by a boy. Ginny bites her lip as the words fade. 

 _Who are you?_ She writes. 

_Tom Riddle, who are you?_

Tom Riddle... Ginny's never heard that name before. So she thinks it's safe to say that he's no longer a student at Hogwarts, if he ever was to begin with. Ginny presses the tip of her quill to the page. 

_Ginny Weasley._

_Weasley?_

_Yes._

A moment passes and Ginny wonders why she's doing this. Why she's talking to a boy she's never met and certainly doesn't know. Ginny pulls the tip of her quill away and adjusts her grip so that she can twirl it between her fingers. For all Ginny knows this could be some sick joke. A way for Malfoy to torment her more. A game that Ginny isn't aware she's part of and wouldn't that just amuse Malfoy all the more. 

The rage is back, hot and heady, and Ginny grinds her teeth as she watches new words appear on the page. 

 _Are you alright? You seem... Upset._  

 _I'm angry,_ Ginny corrects. 

_Angry? Why?_

_Why do you care?_

_I'm curious._

Ginny frowns, taps her quill against the top corner of the page, and considers her options. 

She could tell Tom Riddle about Malfoy but who's to say he isn't real and won't go to Malfoy afterwards to tell the blond everything Ginny said? There's not really a way Ginny can tell but she's so angry. What's the worst Malfoy could do? Mention it? Mock her with it? 

He does that anyway. 

_I have a problem with a classmate._

_I see, he's a bully and you feel vulnerable._

This time it's not so much rage as a general annoyance about the fact that Tom Riddle, who has never met her before, is correct in his assumptions. But Ginny has spent too much time in the company of bullies to stop herself from feeling defensive. 

 _What do you know about it,_ Ginny writes. 

 _I know a lot of things... I know how to make it stop._  

It sounds like a lie, sounds too good to be true, no one can just stop Malfoy from being a bully... But there's a little voice in the back of her mind telling Ginny that she should listen to Tom Riddle. It's telling her to trust him, to make Malfoy and everyone else who's ever tormented her pay for what they've done. For the mocking and the bullying and the laughter. 

_What are you talking about?_

And Ginny thinks that she can practically hear the triumph in the words that appear across the page. 

_Let me teach you, let me show you._

And Ginny doesn't realize it yet but she's practically signing her life away when she writes, _Ok_. 

 

* * *

 

The school term is a blur. 

Ginny and Tom talk about things like school and classes and Ginny ends up telling him far more about herself then she's ever told anyone. She tells him about her desire to be better than what everyone expects her to be, she tells him about her hatred for Malfoy, she tells him about her fear of failure. Of being reduced to nothing more than Arthur Weasley's daughter. 

In return Tom tells her how to perform spells that she's never heard of before. 

Somehow it's enough. 

Until it's not. 

Somehow it's enough until the night Tom Riddle sucks her into the diary and begins showing her spells and potions so old they're all but forgotten by everyone save for the two of them. And Ginny smiles at the handsome dark eyed boy with the twisted smile as he tells her that power is power but in order to acquire that power one has to be knowledgeable. They have to be willing to learn. 

And after Tom Riddle has taught her an ancient warding spell he laces his fingers through hers and says, "You've got so much power, Ginevra Weasley, it's a shame no one else can see just how amazing you could be with the proper guidance." 

His little declaration is somehow enough for him to worm his way beneath her skin and root himself in the space between her bones. 

After that Ginny begins losing entire nights from her memory. 

She doesn't mention it for a long while, even as panic begins to rise among the students Ginny keeps quiet... But then one night she wakes up and her socks are covered in something red and thick. Blood. Ginny's quick to get rid of the socks and contact Tom. 

 _I think I'm losing my mind_ , she writes down with trembling fingers. 

Tom doesn't respond for a long time. 

_Why do you think that?_

_Because I can't remember what I did yesterday during the time Mrs. Norris was attacked._

Not that it's a shame. Ginny hates that bloody cat. 

_Don't worry, you're not losing your mind. I promise._

Ginny lets it go after that. Why would she doubt Tom when he's been such a good friend to her? So she puts her quill and ink away before placing the now closed journal beneath her pillow. 

A few weeks later Justin Finch-Fletchley is found petrified on a floor beside Nearly Headless Nick and Ginny knows in a very vague sort of way that she did it. That she is the one who's been writing the messages and attacking people. 

 _Why?_ Ginny demands, angry and afraid. 

_Why what, Ginevra? Be specific._

_Why did you make me do it?_

A long moment and then, _Why not?_

Ginny wants to cry, wants to scream, instead she rushes to Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom and tries to destroy the journal. She tries and tries and tries but it don't be destroyed so Ginny marches to a stall, opens the door, and throws the journal into the toilet. Then she runs. 

And that's supposed to be the end of it. She got rid of the journal. No one goes into Myrtle's bathroom. It's fine, it's over. 

But it's not. 

Because Harry Potter comes into the common room with a familiar black journal tucked into his hands and something in Ginny dies screaming. 

Weeks later she wakes up on a stone floor, blood and water and ink mixing into her hair. Harry potter is kneeling above her, blood dripping down his arm, eyes warm, and Ginny wants to cry because on the ground next to him is a ruined journal with a basilisk fang jutting out the front cover... And Harry Potter, who isn't actually her friend but he saved her anyway, is _dying_. 

But he doesn't actually die. Why else would he be called the Boy-Who-Lived if he wasn't capable of cheating certain death? 

And when Dumbledore comes to her in the Hospital Wing, the privacy curtains drawn tight around them, there's a shadowy image lingering behind him. Ginny blames it on the magic she'd suffered under and tells Dumbledore everything. He smiles, tells her she's brave, and pats her on the knee before leaving. But the shadowy figure doesn't follow. Instead it moves closer, the vagueness of it's form taking an all too familiar face, and Ginny wants to scream as Tom Riddle leans closer. 

 _You didn't think you could get away from me so easily did you?_ He asks but his mouth doesn't move, _We're so much alike, you and I, don't you see?_

 _No_ , Ginny thinks, _we're nothing alike_. 

Tom Riddle's smile is more a show of teeth than anything else as he says, _I wouldn't make such quick assumptions if I were you, Ginevra_. 

Ginny doesn't realize she's crying until the twins appear and wipe away the tears that are leaking down her face. 

 

* * *

 

In the years later Ginny dreams of Tom Riddle and his twisted grins. 

He teaches her hexes and curses and spells so dark Ginny wonders if she'd be sentenced to Azkaban for even knowing about them. She refuses to practice them, even in her sleep Ginny won't be associated with dark magic. 

Tom Riddle just laughs, eyes surprisingly jovial, and moves so his lips brush her cheek. 

 _Too late, Ginevra,_ he laughs, _you already know these spells better than I do and one day you're going to use them_. 

Ginny just ignores him as best she can. 

What does he know? Nothing. He doesn't know her. Not anymore. When she was eleven she would have followed him to the ends of the earth but now she's fourteen and hardly an idiot and Ginny knows she doesn't need dark magic to keep herself alive. She doesn't need _him_ to keep her alive. Him with his twisted concepts of what dark and light magic is. Him with his depravity, him with his malice. What does he know about her? Nothing. He knows nothing and Ginny knows she doesn't need him or his teachings. 

But during her sixth year Tom Riddle presses his lips to hers and he tastes like gasoline and rust. He kisses her like he hates her, like she's everything he's ever wanted and he despises her for it. Like he can suck the life out of her if he tries hard enough. And when he pulls away Ginny tastes blood on her tongue. 

Tom Riddle just smirks and Ginny realizes what hatred really feels like. 

 _Live or die, Ginevra_ , his eyes are manic, _time to decide_. 

Then he's gone. No longer following at Ginny's side like he has been since she woke up in the hospital wing all those years ago. No longer running beside her as Ginny darts past Death Eaters and shields herself from their spells. Ginny trips over a dead boy with broken glasses as she tries to avoid a Killing Curse. It makes her sick, all of this violence, but what makes her angry is _their_  delight. 

Delight at the mangled bodies of children littering the floor, delight at the pain they've caused, delight at the chaos they've brought to a once peaceful place. 

Ginny stands on shaking knees, wand clenched tight between her fingers. 

A man and woman step forward, their eyes are deranged and their faces hollow. They raise their wands, Latin words dripping from their lips like poison, and they're fast but Ginny's just a touch faster. 

She thinks back to one of the spells Tom Riddle taught her without realizing she's done it until her wand is moving in complex patterns and the off colored curses from her attackers are meeting a shield of pulsing blue light. 

Her attackers cackle as they begin firing different spells. 

Ginny counters. 

And the woman's eyes go glossy, glossy, glossy as her body crumples to the floor. Her companion freezes, watching horrified, as the woman stops breathing. And then he's whirling on Ginny, the killing curse spilling from his lips, a jet of green light shooting at Ginny's shield. For a brief second Ginny thinks that this is how she's going to die. On a battlefield littered with dead children. 

But this is not the case. 

Instead of hitting her the curse hits her shield. Ginny watches as cracks appear in the pulsing blue dome and she knows she has one chance at surviving. She takes it. Raising her wand as her opponent raises his and shouting in a language long since forgotten. And it is in this moment that Ginny Weasley realizes something is very, very wrong. Because the spells have met and the world erupts into multi-colored lights that burn Ginny's retinas through closed eyelids. 

Suddenly the sound of shouting is fading and the world is tilting and the floor beneath Ginny Weasley's feet disappears entirely. 

 _I don't want to die like this_ , is Ginny's last coherent thought before her body smacks into something hard and cold and very, very wet. 


	2. Chapter 2

When Ginny wakes, an action that brings genuine surprise given the circumstances, it's with the taste of ash in her mouth and her hair clinging stiffly to exposed flesh. She doesn't open her eyes for several moments in an attempt to alleviate the churning feeling in her stomach that comes from the steady rocking of the ground beneath her. In a distant sort of way she wonders if Harry won. Somewhere she can hear talking, whispering really, and while Ginny can't make it out she knows whoever's talking isn't angry. 

 _Probably mum and dad_ , she thinks to herself as she moves to brush her hair out of her face. 

But her hands don't move more then a few inches before they're stopped by the sharp tug of heavy metal. 

In a second Ginny is awake and staring at the chains that are keeping her hands bound together. 

Panic begins to set in, hot and heavy, and Ginny thinks that if she's chained up then it's unlikely Harry won against Voldemort. But if that were the case then where are the Death Eaters? Where are the other prisoners? Surely they wouldn't just take Ginny as a prisoner. Not when there are other pure-blood and half-blood children who'd been fighting beside Harry Potter and the Order. 

 So where is she then? 

Ginny leans back and looks at the room she's being kept in. 

Wooden walls, a long wooden bench attached to the wall on which Ginny had been left, and across from her a small door made of heavy metal and a lock. It's a cell, different from the old Dungeons of Hogwarts or the prisons cells of Azkaban but a cell non-the-less. But the subtle differences makes Ginny sag with relief. Because this cell isn't like those in Hogwarts or Azkaban and no self-respecting Pure-blood family would have a wooden dungeon in place of moss covered stone. 

This isn't a good situation by any means but Ginny thinks that it's not terrible either. 

And when a girl with golden hair and brilliantly blue eyes appears on the other side of the cell Ginny tries to remember if they've ever met before now or if this stranger matches any of the defining traits of a pure-blood family. 

She doesn't. 

Ginny purses her lips and leans back to rest against the wall, fingers clenching and relaxing around air, and squares her shoulders. 

"Who are you?" It's more of a demand than a question. 

And when the blonde raises a well groomed eyebrow Ginny realizes that she's surprised the other girl. 

"Where am I?" 

"You've been asleep for three days. We pulled you out of the ocean. What were you doing there?" 

Ginny bites back a frown. 

There aren't any oceans near Hogwarts and Ginny thinks it's unlikely this girl is talking about the Black Lake because her eyes are hard and her face is impassive. She thinks Ginny if a threat. And Ginny has spent years being seen as a threat by men and women far, far older than her. So she blinks slowly, crosses one leg over the other, and waits. 

She doesn't have to wait long before the blonde sighs and leans against the bars of the cell door. 

"What's you're name?" She asks. "I'm Aelin."

"Ginny." 

Simple enough. No family names given. They're still strangers.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, Ginny, and every time you answer one of mine I'll answer one of yours." Aelin offers a tight lipped grin. "Sound fair?" 

In a way Ginny thinks that it could be fair. Unfortunately, she has no way of knowing if this girl is telling her the truth and there's no way in any sort of hell Ginny's going to say anything about the Order of Harry or the fail safe the Order came up with in the event that Harry doesn't make it and Voldemort wins the war. But while there's no way to guarantee the other is telling the truth Ginny thinks that she can be... Vague. 

But that wouldn't work either, because Ginny won't risk any inconsistencies in her story. Inconsistencies mean mistakes and mistakes mean danger. 

So she keeps her mouth shut and stares at the girl in front of her for a long moment before the girl sighs, pushes off of the bars, and reaches for her back pocket. Ginny isn't sure what she's reaching for but if it's her wand then she can take solace in the fact that the Carrow twins have been thorough in their educating of the students at Hogwarts. A Cruscio is horrific, yes, but Ginny's found a certain comfort in pain. 

Pain means something is real. 

Pain means your alive. 

So she settles back and waits for the questions. 

"What," Aelin asks, tone hard, "is this?" 

And then Aelin's hand slips back into view Ginny's world tilts on its axis. 

Because there's her wand, the wand that has stood with her through trial and tribulation, and it is _broken_. Snapped in two at the middle, barely held together by the thinnest strands of yew, the opal hued core still stuck between the two pieces of barely connected wood. 

Ginny doesn't realize she can't breathe until the blonde girl is kneeling in front of her and brushing her hair out of her face and telling her that everything is going to be fine, fine, fine. 

But it's not going to be fine. Because that is Ginny's wand, that is her key to every hex and curse and spell she's learned over the years and it's broken. How is she going to get home? How is she going to contact her mum or dad? How is she going to protect herself?  

She's being hysterical, she knows it, and Ginny would have been horrified five minutes ago but now all she can think about is flashes of green and Voldemort's voice and the Carrow twins' laughter and the sounds of castle walls crumbling. All she can think about is how _helpless_ she is. 

"You need to calm down." The blonde snarls, fingers curling tight around Ginny's shoulders. 

"I can't... I can't..." 

Ginny takes three gasping breaths, black bleeding in around the edges of her vision, and reaches out with trembling fingers to take her wand from the floor where Aelin had let it drop. Her fingers don't even brush against the yew wood before she's slipping into that empty blackness that had never really been much of a friend before that exact moment.

 

* * *

 

"Alohomora."

When she was in Third year Tom Riddle settled himself beside her at the desk in the library and took her Defense book. He'd studied the bright blue binding, scoffed and said, _You know, Ginevra, magic is all about intention. You have to know what you want, see it in your mind's eye, and make it happen_. Ginny hadn't put much stock in it at first, obviously magic was about intention. She'd been more interested in attempting to ignore the boy who'd tried to kill her.

But now? As Ginny stares at the shackles clinging to her wrist? Well, she's glad Tom Riddle seemed so determined to drive the message home with Ginny. 

"Alohomora." 

She's never really attempted wandless magic before. Hermione had tried to get her to attempt it once or twice and Bill had always claimed it was helpful but Ginny always had something else going on. She never quite got around to learning wandless magic between studying new spells, passing her classes, and preparing for a war. In hindsight, not studying wandless magic had been a mistake on her part. 

"Alohomora." 

The shackles rattle but they don't open. 

"Alohomora." 

Still, nothing. 

A bead of sweat slips down Ginny's face, following the path made by the bridge of her nose, and Ginny moves to wipe it away with the ruined sleeve of her jumper before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

"Alohomora." She says it more firmly, a command instead of a plea, and the shackles around her wrist rattle for a second before the heavy metal around her left wrist pops open and flops onto her lap. 

As Ginny sits panting on the bench in her cell she wraps her fingers around the shackle still clasped around her wrist and attempt to pull it off. The sweat clinging to her skin and the natural slenderness of her frame allows Ginny to slip the middle of her hand before she really has to do any real work. She pushes and pulls at the cuff, grinding her teeth and swearing as the metal scrapes against her flesh. 

She manages to slip the shackle though. And the moment her hand's free Ginny goes about trying to rub some of the pins and needles out of her hands. Now that she's slipped her shackles Ginny can go about properly evaluating herself and the space around her. 

First, Ginny tries to decide whether or not she has any injuries that are going to need immediate medical attention. When she lifts up her shirt her abdomen is a mess of dark purple and blue skin, there are one or two cuts on her arms and one of her left leg that makes Ginny worry her lip between her teeth for a moment before deciding she'll be fine, and the rest of the scrapes and bruises are superficial enough that Ginny decides not to worry about them. 

Once that's done Ginny rises from the bench and limps over to the cell door. 

If she presses against the bars Ginny can see both sides of the hallway. There's a dead end to her left and a few other cells that look empty, not that Ginny can actually tell if they are or aren't, and so Ginny turns her attention to the right side of the hall that ends with a set of stairs and what might be a trap door. She stands there for a ridiculously long time, just watching the door to see if anyone comes back down. No one does. 

And eventually Ginny has to sit down. 

There's only so much adrenaline can do for a person and Ginny's been running on nothing but since Harry Potter had rushed down the steps toward her and... Ginny grinds her teeth as she moves to lay back down across the bench. Honestly, she's exhausted, magically drained, and in need of a shower and she'd probably kill for a hot meal but Ginny settles on the bench and makes do with what she has. It's not like she'll be getting any sort of special treatment from the Death Eaters once they come for her. 

 

* * *

 

Ginny doesn't sleep. She pretends to though. It's easier than dealing with the people that come through the trap door and linger outside her cell. They never say anything when they come down, never try to wake her up, and sometimes Ginny will catch whispered conversations but that's about it. No one's tried talking to her since the blonde girl, Aelin, and Ginny's almost thankful. 

Really, she wants to ask about her parents and her siblings or about Harry and Hermione or about how the war ended. 

Better yet, she wants to ask Aelin how she ended up in the ocean. Because if she ended up in the ocean then something went wrong with her spell. It was just a defensive spell though, nothing amazing or volatile. Just something Tom Riddle had mentioned once. He'd said it was mean to protect the castor from danger... In all honesty Ginny hadn't actually thought much about it when she'd cast the spell. 

All she'd thought about was the screaming and the fighting and how she didn't want to be one more number in the body count at the end of the night. 

Not that it matters now anyway. If she wants to cast any sort of magic now she's going to have to either use runes to channel her magic or teach herself everything she's learned from scratch. Well, maybe not scratch. She supposes that after she masters the most basic spells everything else will come easier.

"I know you're not asleep." 

Ginny turns her head, opens her eyes, and stares at the girl standing on the other side of the cell. 

She's gorgeous. Tall and shapely with dark hair and green eyes. There's a certain sharpness to her face that reminds Ginny more of a cat than a woman. But just because she's beautiful doesn't mean Ginny underestimates her. There's something very, very dangerous about the woman standing in front of her and Ginny refuses to take any chances. 

"Aelin thought you could do with some food." The girl says, eyes dropping to the bowl in her hand. 

Ginny watches as the dark haired girl leans down to push the bowl through the small slot at the bottom of the door. When she doesn't move to pick it up the girl offers a sigh before dropping to sit on the floor. 

"My name's Lysandra." 

"Ginny." 

"Ginny? That's a nice name." Lysandra says, and she seems genuine. 

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asks after a long moment. 

Lysandra shrugs, flips dark hair over her shoulder, and says, "After your little stunt with the stick you haven't caused any trouble. Aelin doubts you're with Erawan and I-" 

"Who?" 

"A Valg King who wishes to take control of Erilea." 

Ginny's confusion must show on her face because Lysandra sits straighter and levels Ginny with a look. 

"You have no idea what a Valg is do you?" 

"No." 

 _Lies are always better when there's truth mixed in_. 

"I'm also going to assume you have no idea what Erilea is or who The King of Adarlan is." 

This is a trap. Ginny realizes it the second Lysandra finishes speaking. But what can she do? Not answering is just as back as answering and if she does either Lysandra will know she's lying. But she's taking to long to decide what to do and soon Lysandra's going to know that Ginny has no fucking idea what's going on. 

Ginny finds herself shrugging hesitantly instead of saying anything. 

And the smile Lysandra levels her with is downright feral. 

"So if you don't know what Erilea is or who the King of Adarlan is I'm going to assume you aren't from around here... So, where are you from?" 

 _Lie_ , a voice in her head that sounds like Tom Riddle commands. 

Instead Ginny turns her head back toward the ceiling and ignores Lysandra's questions. They can't incriminate her is she doesn't answer their questions. And as they haven't pulled their wands on her Ginny is beginning to doubt the girl on the other side of the bars is a witch. She's something else, Ginny can tell that much, but she's nothing like Ginny. 

It gives... Some sort of comfort. 

"You know," Lysandra says after a while, "We'll be arriving at Skull's Bay in a few weeks. When we get there Rowan Whitethorn is going to come in and the two of you are going to have a little conversation." 

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" 

Lysandra's answering smile is brittle, "It means that you're either going to walk out of whatever room he takes you to or you won't." 

And Ginny finds herself surprised by the anger that sparks to life in the space between her breast bone and her heart. She's spent years being threatened by others and eventually hurt by them too. The Carrow twins had been very liberal with their punishments and Ginny remembers more than one night when Madam Pomphrey had pulled her aside after dinner and slipped a vial of foul smelling potion into her hand. 

 _To help with the after effects,_ she'd whispered before disappearing down the hall. 

Even now she's suffering from the harm others have caused her. She shouldn't be so surprised by the poorly veiled threats but she is. Oh, she is. Because while she doesn't trust Aelin or Lysandra they'd seemed... Kind, perhaps? Less likely to fuck Ginny over? 

Out of the corner of her eye Ginny thinks she can see Tom Riddle's blurry image leaning against the wall, his presence tormenting her in ways Lysandra or Aelin or Rowan Whitethorn never could. He'd never been a friend to Ginny and she hates him with every fiber of her being but even she has to admit that he'd been incredibly intelligent in his youth and powerful to boot. 

The fact he'd shared his knowledge with Ginny is both terrifying and slightly amazing. 

So when Ginny turns her head to level Lysandra with the same look Tom Riddle had leveled her with whenever Ginny said something he didn't like it's with a clear conscious and a fierce determination to get her point across. 

 _I've fought in a war, I've killed people, I've seen people I love die... Don't think that you and your threats can scare me._  

"Did you honestly think threatening me was going to get me to tell you anything? I don't know you, I don't trust you, I'm not telling you a damned thing. Is that clear?" When Lysandra merely raises an eyebrow Ginny scoffs and rolls onto her side so that her back is to Lysandra. 

Several minutes pass before the other girl leaves and Ginny doesn't move from her position on the bench. 

Not even to pick up the bowl of food that has been left for her. 

 

* * *

 

She can't breathe.

There's nothing but glassy eyes and cruel laughter and Tom Riddle's lips pressing, pressing, pressing against hers. 

She can't breath.

Ginny wan'ts to run, flee, fight but there's nothing she can do because her wand is lying broken at her feet and Ginny is so afraid that this is it. This is how she is going to die. 

 _You have so much potential_ , Tom Riddle sneers before he sinks his teeth into bottom lip. 

Ginny screams, hands coming up to shove away at Tom Riddle's shoulders, struggling to get away from the boy that is licking the blood off of her face like it's chocolate. She doesn't want this. Doesn't want him. 

She can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe. 

She fights harder and there are stones crumbling beneath her feet and suddenly Ginny is being dragged beneath roiling waves. There are hands around her ankles and someone is asking her something but their voice is muffled through the water. And there's blood staining the water, turning it a milky pink, and through the haze Ginny can only just make out an oily mass moving toward her through the water, reaching out with clawed hands to wrap their fingers around her throat. 

She can't breathe. 

 

* * *

 

Ginny wakes with a scream lodged in her throat. 

The room is too dark, too small, too clean. It smells like saltwater and mildew and the walls are breathing. Moving in and out in time to the rapid rise and fall of her own chest. And she needs to calm down. She needs to calm down. 

She can't breathe. 

Ginny rolls to a sitting position on the bench, drops her head between her knees, and proceeds to take several panicked breaths before she can actually breathe without it feeling like someone's set her lungs on fire. 

"You're safe, Weasley." She mutters to herself.

It's a parody of comfort. 

She's not safe. She's trapped somewhere unfamiliar and imprisoned by a woman she's never seen nor heard of before. She's not safe... But... She has to pretend she is. Because Ginny can't think of Hogwarts or her family or the friends she'd tripped over while running from Death Eaters. Not right now. Not here. Later, when she's safe and alone, Ginny will cry herself hoarse and curse until her throat is raw but right now? 

Right now Ginny takes three more breaths before rising and brushing back her hair. 

She doesn't go back to sleep. 

 

* * *

 

"When we pulled you out of the ocean I thought you were with Erawan." Aelin states the next time she visits Ginny. "Erawan... He's killed and tortured so many of my people that I wouldn't, couldn't, take the chance of you being one of his." 

Ginny looks over at Aelin and finds the other girl looks rather tired. 

"Why are you telling me this?" 

"Because I've come to the conclusion that you aren't and I'd like to offer you a deal." 

"A deal?" 

"Yes." 

The word is terse, the tension in Aelin's body bleeding into every syllable that slips past her lips. Ginny isn't foolish enough to think that Aelin is doing this out of the goodness of her heart. Ginny hadn't tried to hide the fact that she'd slipped her chains and someone was bound to notice eventually. 

"What kind of deal?" Ginny asks. 

"You help me win this war and, if you survive, I'll help you get home." Aelin replies. 

It's... Not ideal. Ginny wants to go home now but without a wand and with a general lack of knowledge about where she is that's looking unlikely. Unfortunately, Aelin's offer looks like the best of Ginny's options. Not that she had many to chose from to begin with. 

With a sigh Ginny moves to stand in front of Aelin. She leans against the bars, barely a centimeter of space between them, and offers a tight lipped grin. 

"Well then," She manages to spit out between her teeth, "it looks like you've got yourself a witch." 

They were going to find out one way or the other, best to get it out of the way not. 

Aelin looks like she wants to say something, like she wants to call Ginny out on some kind of bullshit, Ginny half expects her too. Ginny kind of wants her too. But Aelin just nods before she unlocks the door and steps to the side to let Ginny pass. 

"We'll set up a bunk and get you a bath, then you'll have to meet the others." 

"I'd rather meet the others now, if you don't mind." 

Blue eyes burn but Aelin just says, "Follow me." 

The blonde moves toward the trap door and Ginny follows close behind, careful not to let the other girl get too far ahead in case this were some sort of trap. Ginny likes the security that comes with being close enough to Aelin to snatch her up in the event someone tries to kill her. But one one tries to attack her and soon Ginny is standing on the deck of a ship. 

Almost immediately she spots Lysandra across the way, she's talking to a tall blond who looks enough like Aelin to be a brother or another kind of relative. The two of them stop talking when they notice Aelin and Ginny making their way closer to them. 

"Aedion, Lysandra, this is Ginny. She'll be traveling with us." Aelin smirks as she levels Lysandra with a look, "Apparenly, she's a witch." 

"Doesn't look like much of one. Thought they were all... Iron teeth and bad humor." Aedion remarks sarcastically. 

And Ginny offers her meanest smile as she says, "Wrong kind of witch, mate." 

Ginny's magic flares and crackles in the space around them, it makes the air smell like ozone and taste like iron. No one comments on it but Ginny doesn't miss the stiffening of shoulders from the man and the two women she's been talking too, and she certainly doesn't miss the the way the blond man's eyebrow twitches. She does, however, miss the smirk Lysandra throws at Aelin. 

Because she's more concerned with the man who looks like he'd rather wrap his hand around her neck then let her anywhere near Aelin. 

Then there is a hand on her shoulder and Lysandra is laughing as she pulls Ginny away from the glaring contest she and Aedion have started up. 

"I'll show Ginny to her bunk!" Lysandra calls, fingers slipping to wrap around Ginny's slim, freckled wrist. 

"Be careful." Aedion barks. 

And Ginny has just enough time to flip him the bird before he slips out of view. 


	3. Chapter 3

In the first week Ginny remains on the ship she learns more about the world she has found herself in and the people in it. More specifically, Aelin and her friends and the people they're fighting against. Aelin's little group tells Ginny bits and pieces of their stories as they sail toward the Dead Islands, nothing that would make Ginny consider them friends but enough that Ginny realizes that they could be. 

Eventually Ginny begins telling them about her life. 

She starts with offhanded comments about her family. About the twins and their tricks, about her parents' laughter, about Charlie's dragons and Bill's scars and Percy's stubbornness. And when they don't press for more but offer their ear she begins to tell them bits and pieces of the more personal aspects of Ginny's life. But no matter how little they push or how nice they seem Ginny doesn't tell them about the battles she's fought or the people she's lost or the pain she's endured. 

When she's not talking about her past or listening to someone else talk about theirs Ginny practices her magic. Little things at first. Cleaning her skin of the grim that accumulates over the day, once the little things are perfected Ginny moves on to the more difficult spells. She only has herself and Tom Riddle's teaching's to go off of and sometimes it's not enough. 

Sometimes Ginny wants to pull out her hair and scream, scream, scream. 

Tonight is one of those nights. 

She's taken to sitting on the deck when everyone else is sleeping or too preoccupied to care about what she's doing. Ginny doesn't attempt large spells when others are around, it makes the chances of her accidentally killing someone less likely. It's a good thing too. Right now she's trying to cast a Patronus. It's... Not working. 

And when the little wisps of silvery blue mist slip through her fingers Ginny growls under her breath and moves to run her fingers through her hair instead. 

"Can't sleep?" 

Every muscle in Ginny's body goes taut and it's only by sheer force of will that Ginny doesn't whip around and level Aelin with the nastiest curses she knows. 

 _You're ok_ , she tells herself, _you're ok_. 

Ginny turns to look at Aelin, leaning against the rail of the ship as she does, Aelin raises an eyebrow and Ginny's mouth tastes like ash. 

Lying to Aelin won't be helpful. It might get the other girl off her back but it won't actually do anything for Ginny... And in all honesty Ginny needs to be at peak performance if she's going to get through _this_ war and go home. If she had her wand it would be different. If she had her wand Ginny could just smile and tell Aelin that the stress she's feeling isn't due to the trauma she's suffered. 

But without her wand Ginny is a bug waiting to be stepped on. 

If she tells Aelin what's going on then maybe the blonde can help her. She is, after all, half fae and a magic wielder. 

"What are you doing up, Aelin?" Ginny demands. 

"Just checking on my favorite witch. Tell me, is your lack of magical prowess something we can fix or no?" 

Ginny tries not to be offended. Obviously Aelin would want someone with a certain degree of skill. But just because Ginny understands doesn't mean she isn't mildly put out about the fact that she's practically crippled. 

"Unless we can fix my wand I'm afraid you're going to have to deal with me reteaching myself magic." Ginny manages to bite out. 

"Your wand?" Aelin's brows furrow before realization dawns. "Oh, I see... Well, do you need the wand to perform magic?" 

"No... My people use it as a way to channel the magic we already have to cast our spells. However, they aren't needed to perform magic." 

"I suppose it's a good thing I know a thing or two about magic then." 

"I doubt you're a qualified teacher, Aelin, sorry." 

And if Aelin takes offense she doesn't show it. Instead she shrugs and smiles and says, "Probably not but I'm better than nothing." 

This, despite Ginny's initial hesitation, is not a lie. Hadn't she just thought about asking Aelin for help anyway? Why is she hesitating now? There's no shame in asking for help, no shame in being unable to do something. But Ginny is ashamed. For some Merling forsaken reason Ginny is afraid of this, of being unable to summon up the power she has as easily as she had at Hogwarts or in her own home. 

Because she'd always been seen as lesser by either her peers or their parents, sometimes even both in the case of the Slytherins, and she's done being seen that way. And being unable to perform her magic the way she used to makes her feel weak, it makes her _feel_ like she's less than the people around her, and it's not true but it's not a feeling easily shaken. 

But Aelin isn't sneering or making derogatory comments about Ginny's inability to perform even the simplest parlor trick. 

"How would you teach me, Aelin?" Ginny asks, the sound of her voice catching in the harsh beat of waves, "You don't know how my magic works." 

"Magic's magic. I don't think it would be terribly difficult to teach you how to channel your magic." Aelin remarks dryly. 

And Ginny takes all of three minutes to decide whether or not she's going to trust Aelin with this. It's different when you're trusting a stranger when they don't know how vulnerable you are. But Aelin hasn't done anything to hurt her so far, nothing intentional anyway, and Ginny's out of options. Either she lets Aelin help her or she settles for trying to regain a fraction of the power she has before they get to the Dead Islands. 

At the end of the day the decision isn't a hard one. 

 

* * *

 

In the time that Aelin spends teaching Ginny to channel her magic without a wand the young Queen learns more and more about the newest member of her personal court. Not just the personal aspects that she tries to hide from the rest of them, the aspects of herself that Aelin can see in the way she holds herself and the way she tenses at every too fast movement of loud noise. While these little quirks tell Aelin quite a bit about Ginny it isn't what catches her attention. 

What catches Aelin's attention is the sheer vastness of her magic. Her knowledge. 

Ginny's is a magic that is different from Aelin's in a magnitude of way. 

When they sit down in the cabin Aelin has been spending her nights in with Lysandra and Aedion she asks Ginny to show her something, anything, so that she might get an idea of how to help the fiery girl. 

And Ginny levels her with a look that could freeze blood before turning her attention to the butter knife resting beside the plate in front of her. 

"Wingardium Leviosa." Ginny breathes, firm but soft, and the knife wobbles as it rises into the air. 

It's a simple spell, Aelin can tell, but there's something in the air that makes Aelin want to suck in a steadying breath. 

This magic, while nothing like the magic of the valg, is intimidating. It ebbs and flows and moves to fill the empty space of the room, but while it's an invasive feeling there is nothing cruel or malicious to it. Instead of an oppressive chill and an overwhelming sense of fear all Aelin feels in the heat of a summer sun and the gentleness of a mother's embrace. 

However, Aelin is under no impression that Ginny isn't dangerous. 

Because she is. Extremely so. 

Ginny Weasley isn't any taller than Aelin is, she isn't terrifyingly beautiful, and while she holds herself like she's ready to leap at you and dig her nails into your eyes there's not an obvious enjoyment of violence to her. All of that changes when she uses magic. Because that ebb and flow of power sets the fiery haired girl alight with something that would make Aelin'w own magic flare in response if she wasn't so in control of herself. 

The witch isn't the most powerful being she's ever met but her magic is just different enough to put Aelin on edge. 

And that is why she's dangerous. 

This however, does not deter Aelin. She's met plenty of dangerous people, she's fought plenty of dangerous people, and she's even fucked a few. Ginny, while dangerous in her unpredictability, is not as scary as one would think her to be. 

So the two of them sit in Aelin's cabin for hours until Ginny is able to cast a spell that causes a misty blue-silver horse to take shape in the air. It's beautiful, aw-inspiring, and Aelin watches as the horse gallops around the small space before fading into nothing. 

After that it get easier. 

They continue to meet in the mornings and evening and sometimes Lysandra or Aedion will join them. Aelin learns more about Ginny's magic and it's amazing. So different from what Aelin is used to seeing in the Fae or any of the other magical beings she's come across. It just proves that Ginny isn't like them, isn't from this world. Which Aelin still doesn't understand but she's asked Ginny about it and even the witch can't tell her. 

So she lets it go in favor of helping Ginny. 

But everyone needs a break and somehow they all end up in Aelin's cabin with two bottles of wine Aedion had managed to snag from the cook a few hours before.

So they drink and laugh and Aedion tells bawdy jokes that make Ginny laugh so hard she snorts. It's fun, Aelin isn't sure when she's been able to have legitimate fun without having to worry about something but this is the first time in a long time. And somehow, and Aelin isn't exactly sure when this happened, Ginny and Lysandra have draped themselves across one of the small bunks. A tangle of limbs and vibrant hair. Aedion keeps shooting them looks and Aelin hardly blames them. 

Because Lysandra is absolutely stunning but Ginny is gorgeous as well, and together they look almost ethereal in the light Ginny has managed to somehow cast about the room. 

"When will we reach the Dead Islands?" Ginny asks once the first bottle of wine is gone and they're halfway through the second and Aedion has flounced off to charm the cook out of two more bottles.

"Two days at the most?" 

"Alright." 

"Why?" 

"I'm tired of ships." 

"Well you're going to have to get used to it, princess, because once we're done with our business there we're back on the ocean." Aelin remarks, twisting to meet Ginny's gaze. 

The red head drops her head to rest against Lysandra's hip and groans, "Fuck me." 

"I mean, we could." 

This comes from Lysandra, all teeth and sharp eyes and a twisted sort of humor that makes something in Aelin clench unpleasantly. But Ginny doesn't giggle or shy away or move away from the dark haired shifter like Aelin almost expects her too, instead, she shoves at the older woman's shoulders and shakes her head. 

"You're a lovely lady Lysandra but I'm saving myself for Aedion." Ginny retorts sarcastically. 

Lysandra snorts, "I don't blame you. He's really very pretty." 

Ginny snorts and takes a swig from the bottle lying near the bunk. 

They haven't really talked about what or who Ginny left behind. Obviously she has a family waiting for her. A mother and a father and brothers who are surely missing her. Friends too. Hermione and Harry and a girl named Luna Lovegood that apparently is the same age as her and one of her closest friends. Occasionally she'll make offhanded comments about men she's found attractive so Aelin can safely wager that Ginny does have sexual interests. 

It's just... Her eyes are haunted. The soft hazel distant and sad. 

 _Someone hurt her_ , Aelin realizes with a shocking amount of rage. 

Aelin's seen the look in Ginny's eyes mirrored in Lysandra's whenever she mentions Clarisse and what she'd suffered under her tutelage. Their circumstances may have been different but that hurt? It's the same. 

And it makes Aelin want to wrap her arms around both women and protect them. 

She settles for taking the bottle from Ginny and taking three large gulps. 

Lysandra and Ginny can take care of themselves, they're survivors, it's what they do. Aelin can offer her protection and they can chose to accept it but they don't actually need it. Because they're strong and fierce and more than a little angry. They're her friends, even if Ginny doesn't realize it yet, and she's proud of them both. So she doesn't tell either of them about the plans she has for those who've hurt them. The plans she has for Madam Clarisse and whoever put that look in Ginny's eyes. 

Without much thought Aelin sets the bottle aside and climbs onto the bunk beside Lysandra. It's a tight fit, they have to press together to keep from falling off, but no one makes a move to leave. No one makes a move to separate. Not even when Aedion returns with another bottle of wine and finds them sprawled across a bunk. It's comfortable and it's safe and right now that's probably what they all need at the moment. 

 

* * *

 

"Are you alright, Aedion?" 

The blond man twists to look at the witch who'd somehow managed to sneak up on him. She's wearing one of Lysandra's tunics and a pair of strange black pants that she'd made out of a napkin. It's all very form fitting and Aedion allows a critical eye to wonder before turning his attention back to her face. She looks concerned, like she knows something's wrong and she's legitimately trying to help. 

"We'll arrive at Skull's Bay tomorrow." 

"And you're worried about this? I thought the whole point was to get to Skull's Bay." 

"It is." 

Ginny's eyebrows furrow, causing the freckles on her forehead and between those brows to shift. The tilt of her head is almost birdlike, a curious little slant that when pared with the narrowed eyes and pinched expression tells Aedion that he'd better explain. 

"My father is in Skull's Bay." Aedion finally relents. 

"And you have bad blood I assume?" Ginny asks. 

"Not really. I've never met the man." 

But she's not wrong either. 

Aedion has never met Gavriel, he doesn't know what the male is like, and while Aedion grew up on stories of the Cadre and their skill he's under no illusions that the stories could always lie. Of course, Rowan had been every bit the fae male described in those stories but... Aedion isn't sure his father will be the same. Surely his mother wouldn't have done anything with him if Gavriel had been a royal cunt. 

Even if his father isn't a total jack ass that doesn't mean Aedion is obligated to care for the male, nor is he obligated to want to be part of his life. 

He's pulled from his thoughts by Ginny's voice. 

"Well," Ginny is saying and her eyes are warm honey flecked with jade, this is the kindest Aedion has ever seen her eyes look, "if it's any consolation you're a good man. Fuck what anyone else thinks, yeah?" 

It's one of the nicest things Aedion has heard come out of Ginny's mouth since Aelin let her out of the brig. Ginny isn't cruel by any means, she's sweet and kind and she'd probably throw herself between any of their little group and danger if the chance came up. But while she's sweet and kind she's also aggressive and has a low tolerance for bullshit. 

So for her to tell Aedion that she thinks he's a good man? After knowing only a little bit of the shitty things he's done and been through? That means more then it probably should. Aedion doesn't care though, he just accepts the read haired girl's words for what they are and allows an easy silence to settle between them. 

Together they watch as moonlight dances on soft waves until the sky begins to pale, then Ginny pats him on the arm and bids him a good morning before leaving the deck. Aedion doesn't know if she's meeting with Aelin or going back to her own cabin but he doesn't think it really matters. So instead of going after her or asking if she'd like to have breakfast with him and Lysandra, Aedion just turns his attention to the now rising sun. 

* * *

 

Lysandra is sure of two things, three but the last is incredibly unimportant. 

The first thing Lysandra is sure of is that Ginny Weasley, Ginevra, has seen horrible things. Things that would make a seasoned soldier cringe. Lysandra can see it in the way Ginny carries herself, in the way she gets really quiet really fast, in the way her eyes grow distant whenever she talks about her family. It's not a happy distant, it's the kind of distant Aelin gets whenever she mentions Sam or when Aedion makes off handed remarks about his time as a General. 

It's... It's not a good kind of distant. 

Which leads to the second thing Lysandra is sure of and that is that Ginny Weasley could be a very, very bad enemy to make. Not that Ginny would ever turn against them, not when she knows what Erawan has done. She'd never willingly ally herself to the Valg or anyone else with less that questionable morals. This doesn't mean she can't be turned against them, however. 

Lysandra's seen what those collars and rings can do to people. She's seen what torture and manipulation can do to people too. Ginny is powerful but if the valg where to slap one of those collars around her neck? Well, she doesn't have a Chaol Westfall to pull her from the grasp of whatever Valg will end up wearing her skin like a suit. 

Which is incredibly sad. 

The dark haired shifted fully intends to rectify that. Not just because Ginny could be a very dangerous enemy but because she is kind and damaged and Lysandra thinks they could be very good friends. 

So when she notices Ginny leaning against the rail lining the port side of the ship Lysandra is quick to make her way over. 

"Good morning." Lysandra greets.

"Morning." 

There are dark circles forming beneath Ginny's eyes and she looks like she hasn't had a decent meal in weeks, which is a lie because Aelin had been muttering about the girl's appetite earlier that morning. 

"When we get to Skull's Bay I'll take you shopping." 

"I have clothes." 

"Clothes that you made out of a napkin. I think your magic is fascinating but we want to draw as little attention as possible." 

Which will be impossible with Ginny's attire. 

Sure, she'd borrowed one of Lysandra's shirts but her pants and boots are so obviously foreign that it's almost painful to witness. The pants alone will draw more than enough attention without people realizing the red haired woman is part of Aelin's inner circle. Ginny must realize this too because her eyes flicker from Lysandra's clothing to her own before a sigh makes its way past her lips. 

"I don't have any money." Ginny admits after a long moment. 

"Don't worry about it." 

"Do you plan on buying all of my clothes?" Ginny demands sarcastically. 

And Lysandra smiles as she says, "Just so long as I get to chose them." 

She has every intention of choosing all of the clothing they'll be getting in Skull's Bay. Lysandra thinks Ginny would look very pretty in warm greens and darker colors like grey and black. Maybe even a bit of yellow or vibrant red if it doesn't clash too badly with her hair. 

Lysandra pointedly ignores Ginny's mutterings about the entire situation. 

When she casts her attention to the horizon she can almost make out the Dead Islands. They'll be there in a few hours, then the real work begins. 

Rowan and Dorian should already be there, and Aedion's father is definitely there as well, and Lysandra isnt sure how this is going to play out but they all have a job to do when they get to Skull's Bay. 

Too bad Ginny's is a little more obscure then the rest. 

Where Aedion will be watching the tavern from an alley to make sure no one tries anything, Lysandra will be helping Aelin in her inevitable power struggle with Captain Rolfe. But none of them are sure what to do with Ginny. Because she's powerful and from another world and no one really wants word getting out about her yet but they might need her while they're in Skull's Bay. 

But they have to do something with her. How can they not? 

So it had been Aedion that had suggested having Ginny remain at Aelin's back when they went to meet with Rolfe. It'd be safer that way, having Ginny there alongside Lysandra, just in case something went wrong or someone decided to go after Aelin when her back might be turned. 

It's a good plan. Hopefully not something they'll end up having to rely on, but a good plan none-the-less. 

"Come on, we'll be there in a few hours. Better get some sleep while we can." Lysandra says as she turns to make her way back inside to the cabin. 

"I'll be down in a moment." 

They both know that's a lie. 


	4. Chapter 4

Ginny allows Lysandra to lead her through the crowded streets of Skull's Bay without so much as a thought of protesting. Any other occasion she might have fought to pull her wrist from the older girl's grip but right now she's rather glad to have it. Because Skull's Bay is disgusting. The buildings are run down, decapitated things that look like the faintest wind could topple them, there are dirty children playing in the questionable muck in the streets, and women in scant clothing smile flirtatiously at the pirates that leer in return. 

It's good to know that the hand guiding her to one of the little shops belongs to a friend and not some stranger looking for a dark alley to fuck her in.

"We don't have much time," Lysandra remarks, voice unnaturally hoarse, "we have to meet the others in a bit." 

By that Lysandra means the two of them have to be at the Sea Dragon tavern as soon as they finish here. Aelin had been finishing in the markets when Lysandra had pulled Ginny aside and told the other girl they'd meet at the tavern. 

"What are we getting?" Ginny asks after a moment. 

"Shirts, pants, and boots for sure. We can come back and get the rest tomorrow." Lysandra replies. 

And then she's pressing a darkly colored jacket into Ginny's arms along with a white blouse, a pair of trousers, and a pair of sturdy looking boots. Once she's sure Ginny won't drop anything Lysandra points at the curtain acting like a privacy screen. 

"Hurry up and change." She commands, "I'll pay." 

Then she's gone and Ginny's making her way into the pseudo dressing room where she strips out of her borrowed and made clothing so that she can try on the newer articles. The shirt is a bit big and the trousers a bit loose, but those are all easy fixes and Ginny makes them with a muttered spell and a pass of her hand over the length of her body. 

Lysandra is waiting for her when Ginny pulls back the curtain. 

Grey eyes pass over Ginny before the shifter nods. 

"Acceptable." Her eyes raise to Ginny's face. "We need to do something about your hair." 

"My hair?" Ginny isn't offended exactly, but she's certainly confused. 

Without replying Lysandra reaches out, threads her fingers through Ginny's hair, and combs it to create a new part. Whatever look it must create seems to please Lysandra well enough because she just nods her head and turns to leave the shop. 

Ginny follows behind, fingers clenching around the fabric of Lysandra's shirt and the trousers she's created. There hadn't been much point in keeping the shoes, they'd been bloody and worn and Ginny hadn't wanted them to remind her of the war she's been shot out of. She left them in the dressing room. Maybe the clerk can do something with them, maybe they'll be tossed out, either way Ginny doesn't care. 

"Watch your pockets." Lysandra barks at Ginny, eyes roving the street. 

"I don't have any money." Ginny retorts. 

But when a too skinny little boy with hollow eyes shoots past her Ginny wishes she did. What's a few coins when children are starving? When their bodies are eating themselves because there isn't enough nutrients in their systems to prevent it? If she could get her hands on the kid without him screaming or causing a scene Ginny might be able to do something to help him. 

Most of the old magic Tom Riddle had taught her had been focused around survival. 

 _What's the point of having magic if you don't life long enough to use it?_ He'd asked one day during Ginny's second year. _And what's the point of having magic if you can't use it to help yourself._  

Surprisingly, most of the things he'd said haf a sort of logic to them, a sort of sense that had forced Ginny to agree. 

Most, but not all. 

Ginny doesn't want to think about that now, though. Not when she has more important things to think about. Like keeping Aelin alive. Merlin, Ginny hopes it doesn't come to that. She doesn't particularly feel like blasting some poor wanker through a wall. Of course, if it comes down to that Ginny isn't not going to commit. if she can fling hexes and curses at Death Eaters without so much as batting an eye then Ginny can make sure no one so much as breathes in Aelin's direction the wrong way. 

It's fine. 

 _Really_. 

Her thoughts are interrupted when Lysandra turns into an alley and Ginny has to turn sharply to keep herself from walking right past. 

Aelin is waiting with Aedion and the blue eyed woman smiles kindly at them when Ginny and Lysandra come to a stop before her. 

"Is everyone ready?" Aelin asks, eyes moving to the mouth of the alley where men and women and children walk by without a care in the world. 

Ginny casts her eyes upward to observe the last remnants of sunlit sky. They don't plan to move until it gets a bit darker. Ginny understands that, even if they are using Ginny's magic to slip into the Sea Dragon it would be best to do so at night when people are more focused on revelry and sex then whatever they might see if their group were to do anything while the sun was still out. 

So they discuss what's expected of them in hushed whispers, concealed by a muffilato Ginny cast when Aelin first began speaking, and answer questions that the group might have. 

And when the time comes Ginny casts a disillusionment charm around herself, Lysandra, and Aelin so that no one spots them when they slip through the front door of the Sea Dragon and make their way to Captain Rolfe's office. 

Lysandra breaks away at one point, slipping into an abandoned hall once they've cleared the stairs, she'll be joining them in a bit. Ginny allows herself a split second to worry about her newest friend but reminds herself that Lysandra is more than capable of handling herself. So she allows Aelin to guide her to a locked door and presses her hand to the lock. 

"Alohamora." Ginny breathes, the now almost familiar warmth that comes whenever she uses wandless magic spreading through her body before fading. 

The door unlocks, swinging open enough to create a visible gap, and the two of them slip inside and shut the door before anyone notices. 

While Ginny locks the door Aelin lets out a low whistle. 

"They'll be here soon." Aelin remarks, an audible note of excitement in her tone. 

Instead of replying Ginny makes her way to the chair behind the desk where Aelin is now reclining. She leans against the wall to the right of Aelin, arms crossed, one leg bent so she can press a foot against the wall.

"If you're going for pretty and terrifying," Aelin snorts. "I think you're doing an excellent job." 

"Thanks." 

"Of course." 

And Aelin winks vivaciously before turning her attention to the door. Ginny looks away from the blonde and around the room to look for anything that can be used as an exit before doing the same. She thinks that she can hear people in the hall, heavy footsteps and accented words. She tries not to think too much about the rapid beating of her heart and the clench of her stomach. 

She is not afraid. 

 

* * *

 

"I like this office better than your other one, Rolfe." 

Dorian didn't move as Rolfe let out a snarl, "I have a distinct memory, Celaena Sardothian, of saying that if you ever set foot in my territory again your live was forfeit." 

The woman behind Aelin, a stranger to him and Rowan if the fae male's stiffness is any indication, tilts her head to the side. As if she were confused by the name or by Rolfe's words. He isn't sure. He'll ask later. 

"Ah," Aelin says, lowering her hands and leaving her feet propped on Rolfe's desk, "but where would the fun be in that?" 

Beside him Rowan is still as death. Aelin's grin becomes feline as she finally lowers her feet and runs her hands along either side of the desk, assessing the smooth wood as if it was a prize horse. She inclines her head to Dorian. 

"Hello Majety." 

"Hello, Celaena." He saus as calmly as he can, well aware that two Fae males behind can hear his thundering heart. Rolfe whipped his head toward him. 

Because it is Celaena who sits there, for whatever purpose it was Celaena Sardothian in this room. Celaena and an unfamiliar woman with perhaps too many freckles, sharp features, and hair like fire. 

Aelin jerks her chin at Role. "You've seen better days, but considering half your fleet has abandoned you, I'd say you look decent enough." 

"Get out of my chair." Rolfe says, too quietly. 

Aelin does not such thing. She just gives Rowan a sultry sweep from foot to face. Rowan's expression remains ureadable, eyes intent, near glowing. And then Aelin says to Rowan with a secret smile, "You, I don't know. But I'd like to." 

Rowan's lips tug upward. "I'm not on the market, unfortunately." 

"Pity," Aelin says, cocking her head as she notices the bowl of emeralds sitting on Rolfe's desk. 

 _Don't do it_ , he thinks, _Don't_. 

Aelin swipes the up the emeralds in a hand, picking them over as she glances at Rowan from beneath her lashes. "She must be a rare, staggering beauty to make you so faithful." 

_Gods save them all._

Dorian could have sworn he heard Fenrys cough behind him. 

The woman standing behind Aelin tilts her head and raises an auburn brow. Either out of disbelief of amazement Dorian isn't sure. But as Aelin begins plunking Emeralds back into the bowl Dorian turns his attention away. 

"She must be clever" - _plunk_ \- "and fascinating" - _plunk_ \- "and very, _very_ talented." _Plunk_ , _plunk_ , _plunk_ go the emeralds. She examines the four emeralds remaining in her hand. "She must be the most wonderful person who ever existed." 

Another cough from behind him, from Gavriel this time, but Aelin only has eyes for Rowen as the warrior says to her, "She is indeed that. And more." 

"Hmmm." Aelin says, rolling the emeralds around her palm with expert ease. 

Whatever silent conversation she and Rowen are having is interupted by Rolfe's growl of, "What. Are. You. Doing. Here." 

Aelin dumps the emeralds back into their dish. 

"Is that any way to speak to an old friend?" She asks. 

Rolfe stalks toward the desk and beside him Rowan trembles with restraint as the Pirate Lord braces his hand son the wooden surface of his desk. The woman behind Aelin is not so tense as the Fae male but she does move to lean against Aelin's chair. 

Her fingers move, acting as if she's rolling something between them, a nervous tick if the way her hand suddenly flexes is anything to go by. 

"Last I heard, your master was dead and you sold the Guild to his underlings. You's a free woman. What are you doing in my city?" Rolfe snarls. 

Aelin just meets his eyes with an indifference that makes Dorian wonder if she'd been born with it or if it were a skill hones through blood and adventure. 

"War is coming, Rolfe. Am I not allowed to weigh my potions? I thought to see what _you_ planned to do." She retorts. 

Rolfe turns to look at Dorian over a broad shoulder and bites out, "Rumor has it she was your champion this fall. Do you wish to deal with _this_?" 

"You will find, Rolfe, that one does not deal with Celaena Sardothisn. One survives her." He manages to say it without hinting at the nervousness wracking his body. The excitement he's beginning to feel. 

The Pirate Lord merely rolls his eyes and turns back to Aelin. "So, what is the plan, then? You made a bargain to get out of Endovier, became King's Champion, and now that he is dead, you wish to see how you might profit." 

Dorian tries not to flinch. Dead, his father is dead. 

_I killed him._

There hadn't been a choice. Dorian's father was not Dorian's father anymore, if he'd ever been, and better to kill one evil then allow it to kill thousands of innocents. 

"You know how my tastes run." Aelin retorts. "Even with Arobynn's fortune and the sale of the Guild... War can be a profitable time for people who are smart with their business." 

"And where is the sixteen-year-old self-righteous brat who wrecked six of my ships, stole two of them, and destroyed my town, all for the sake of two hundred slaves?" Rolfe demands. 

A shadow passes over Aelin's face that makes Dorian shiver, but it is nothing to the sudden hatred in the eyes of the woman behind her. 

"Spend a year in Endovier, Rolfe, and you quickly learn how to play a different sort of game." 

"I told you," Rolfe seethed with quiet venom, "that you'd one day pay for your arrogance." 

Aelin's smile is a lethal thing. 

"Indeed I did," She begins. "And so did Arobynn Hamel." 

Rolfe blinked, just once, just enough to show his surprise or his fear or his trepidation, then straightened. 

"Get out of my seat. And put back that emerald you slipped up your sleeve." Rolfe commands. 

Aelin snorts, and with a flash of fingers the fourth Emerald that Dorian had forgotten, appears between her fingers. 

"Good. At least you eyesight isn't failing in your old age." 

"And the other one." 

Aelin grinned again then leaned back in Rolfe's chair, tipped up her head, and spat out an emerald she'd somehow kept hidden under her tongue. Dorian watches as the emerald arcs neatly through the air and lads in the bowl with a soft _pling_. 

Dorian glances at Rowan expecting to see disapproval but there is only delight and pride and simmering lust shining in the Prince's eyes. The King turns his attention back to Aelin. 

"I have two questions for you." Aelin says to the Pirate Lord. 

Rolfe's hand twitches toward his rapier and the woman behind Aelin goes completely still. Not a twitch or a shiver or a blink. She is like a statue... Or a predator ready to lunge across the table and rip out Rolfe's eyes. 

"You're in no rutting position to ask questions." Rolfe growls. 

"Aren't I? After all, I made you a primise two and a half years ago. One that you signed." Aelin retorts, eyes ablaze. 

Rolfe's lips pull back in a sneer. 

"Have you or have any of your ships bought, traded, or transported slaves since that... Unfortunate day?" Aelin asks, if Dorian didn't know better he'd say she was being flippant. 

"No." 

A satisfied nod. 

"And have you provided sanctuary for them here?" 

"We haven't gone out of our way but if any arrived, yes." Rolfe responds. 

Each word is tighter than the last, a spring about to burst forward and throttle the Queen. Dorian prays that for his sake Rolfe won't be dumb enough to draw on her. Not with Rowan and the auburn haired woman watching his every breath. Because Dorian isn't sure who would do more damage but he knows Rolfe wouldn't be leaving the room alive. 

"Good and good." Aelin nods as she speaks, "Smart of you not to lie to me. As I took it upon myself when I arrived to look into your warehouses, to ask around in the markets. And then I came here..." She runs her fingers over the papers and books on the desk. "To see your ledgers for myself." She drags a finger down a page containing various columns and numbers. "Textiles, spices, pocelain dining ware, rice from the southern continent, and various contraband, but... No slaves. I have to say, I'm impressed. Both at your honoring your words and at your thorough house keeping." 

A low snarl from Rofle, "Do you know what your stunt cost me?" 

Aelins flicks her eyes toward a piece of parchment pinned to the wall with knives and darts and various scissors. Target practice apparently, for Rolfe. "Well, there's the bar tab I left unpaid." She says to the document, which is indeed a list of items and... Holy gods, that is a large sum of money. 

Rolfe turns on his heels, eyes wild, and says to the three Fae males, "You want my assistance in this war? Here's the cost. Kill her. Now. Then my ships and men are yours." 

Fenrys' dark eyes glitter, but not at Rofle, as Aelin rises to her feet. Her black clothes are travel-worn, her golden hair gleaming in the gray light. And even in a room of professional killers, she takes the lion's share of air. 

"Oh, I don't think they will." She says. "Or even can." 

The Pirate Lord rounds on her, "You'll find that you are not so skilled in the face of Fae warriors." 

She points to one of the chairs in front of the desk as she smiles and says, "You may want to sit." 

"Get the _hell_ out of-" 

He's interrupted by Aelin's low whistle. 

"Allow me to introduce you, Captain Rolfe, to the incomparable, the beautiful, and all-around flawless Queen of Terrasen." Aelin's voice is a laughing, coiling, dangerous thing. 

But then the door is swinging open and everyone save Aelin and the woman behind her are turning to the door to watch as Aelin Galathynius strides into the room, clad in a dark green tunic of equal wear and dirt, golden hair unbound, turquoise-and-gold eyes laughing as she strides past a slack-jawed Rolfe and perched on the arm of Aelin's chair just in front of the stranger. 

Dorian can't tell, without a fae's sense of smell, he cant tell which is which. Who is who. If one is merely an illusion created by the strange woman for this exact purpose. 

He can't tell. 

"What devilry is this?" Rolfe manages to choke out around his shock. 

Aelin and Aelin share a look, one that is ignored by the auburn haired woman who is staring at someone behind Dorian. The one in black grins up at the newcomer. 

"Oh, you are gorgeous, aren't you." Aelin breathes. 

The one in green smirks, but is is a softer smirk. Made with a mouth unused to sneering and snarling and baring teeth. This is what tells Dorian that the second Aelin is not an illusion but a shifter with green eyes instead. 

The two queen move to face Rolfe. 

"Aelin Galathynius had no twin." The Pirate lord states. 

And Aelin rolls her eyes in not-quite-annoyance as she waves her hand. "Oh Rolfe, you ruin my fun." 

Dorian watches as she jerks her chin at Lysandra, and then the shifter's skin in shining and her golden hair lengthens into dark tresses, her skin sun-kissed, and eyes up-tilted and green. 

Rolfe lets out a startled yelp and staggers back into Fenrys, who steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. The Fae male's eyes are wide with awe, amazement, glee. Dorian isn't sure but he would have to agree if pressed that Lysandra is fucking amazing. 

"A shifter." The dark eyed male gasps only to have three pairs of unimpressed eyes bore into him. 

Then Aelin is speaking. "As intrigues as I am to see that the cadre is present, will you verify to His Pirateness that I am who I say I am, and we can move on to more pressing matters?" 

Rolfe's face is white with his fury as the realization that they'd all known who Aelin was, who she was and hadn't spoken to him of it, sets in. 

And so, to keep the peace as best he can, Dorian says, "She is Aelin Galathynius... And Celaena Sardothian." 

But it is to Gavriel and Fenrys, the outside party, two whom Rolfe turns. 

"She is who she says she is." Fenrys confirms, even as Gavriel nods and Rowan smirks and the woman with the fiery hair scoffs at Rofle's ignorance. 

Or at least, Dorian hopes she's scoffing at Rolfe's ignorance. It's hard to tell as he doesn't know her well enough to determine the little sounds or facial expressions she makes. But he will, by the end of this war, Dorian will know. 

Rolfe turns to Aelin, expecting slicing words or mockers, but she merely takes a sealed tube that Lysandra offers her and allows her gaze to sweep over the shifter. 

"You made your hair shorter." Aelin remarks. 

And... It's odd to remark on but Dorian isn't at all surprised. 

"You try having hair that long and see if you last more than a day," and Lysandra turns to the woman leaning against the chair behind her. "I don't know how you do it." 

The Pirate Lord merely gapes at them. Gapes and gapes until Aelin turns to grin at him, tossing the tube from hand to hand. 

Aelin's smile is pure glee as she says to Rolfe, "Lets discuss this little business of you reusing to aid my cause." 

 

* * *

 

The Pirate Lord, as Ginny has come to learn he is called, points at a large table and Aelin stands. There is not an ounce of worry in her body, no nervousness, nothing but a delightful kind of mischievous glee that makes Ginny want to laugh. But she doesn't, this isn't the time, so she instead moves to follow Aelin and Lysandra to the table. They take all of three steps before the male with the tattoos on his face and the silvery hair is at Aelin's side, hand on her elbow. 

 _Rowan_ , she thinks, _this is Rowan_. 

This is the personal that would have supposedly tortured her for information, flayed her alive, made her beg for death. 

In all honestly, Ginny wouldn't be surprised if he'd been able to do so. 

Merlin's saggy balls, the Carrow twins hadn't been kind. They'd tortured Ginny and anyone else that had any sort of connection to Harry Potter without so much as batting an eye. They hadn't felt guilt or remorse or pity, not even when a Hufflepuff second year had to be sent to Mungo's after Amycus Carrow had blasted nearly half of her face off. The poor girl hadn't come back, Ginny doubts she ever made it to see the healers. 

 

Torture scares Ginny, hell, she thinks it would scare anyone with some fucking common sense. But to be tortured by a man who has supposedly lived hundreds of years? That's terrifying. Because Alecto and Amycus and all of the others who'd ever hurt Ginny are _children_ in comparison. They haven't hones their skills the way the fae males around her likely have. 

So when Ginny lowers herself into the seat between the silver haired male with the tattoos and Lysandra she does so with stiff shoulders and an urge to pull a wand from her pocket. She settles for digging her nails into her knees. 

Across from her, Captain Rolfe is not smiling. 

"A Queen who plays with fire is not one who makes a solid ally." He remarks. 

"And a pirate whose men abandoned him at the first test of allegiance makes for a shit naval commander, yet here I am, at this table." Aelin's retort is laced with a subtle sort of venom that doesn't go unnoticed. 

"Careful, girl. You need me more than I need you." Rolfe sneers, and Ginny almost wants to roll her eyes. 

"Do I?" Aelin asks before leaning back in her chair, eyes lit with a dangerous glee. "The way I see it, I have the gold, and I have the ability to raise you up from a common criminal to a respectable, established businessman. Fenharrow can dispute who owns these Islands, but... What if I were to throw my support behind you? What if I were to make you not a Pirate Lord but a Pirate King?" 

Whatever game Aelin's playing is either going to blow up in her pretty face or end up working out for her. And as Aelin and Rolfe and the sweet eyed King discuss politics and backing claims Ginny allows her eyes to drift. Because this isn't her game to play, she doesn't have anything to offer Rofle that he'd be terribly interested in... Not unless she were to do something miraculous. 

 _Don't be a fool, Ginevra,_ she remembers Tom saying, _the only reason people aren't groveling at you feet is because you haven't given them a reason to do so_. 

And Ginny remembers telling him to fuck off. Remembers telling the bit of Tom's shadowed, fragmented soul that he didn't know what he was talking about. That he was a power-hungry lunatic who didn't even have enough skill to kill a toddler. A toddler, mind, that hadn't even been out of his nappies yet.

 _How hard can it fucking be, Riddle? He was a fucking toddler! You should have just thrown him out the fucking window if you'd wanted him dead so badly_.

Of course, Ginny had regretted those words immediately after she'd said them. Clamping her hand over her mouth and damn near sobbing when Tom had thrown his head back and laughed like she'd just told him a joke. Like she hadn't just insulted his magical ability. Like she hadn't just spoken of one of her best friend's trauma like it was idle gossip to be discussed over Sunday brunch. 

Ginny's fingers curl tighter around her knee caps before releasing them with a low breath. 

She doesn't need to be thinking about him right now. Not whe- "You have two days to get yourselves off this Island," Rolfe's voice interrupts, "After that, my promise from two and a half years ago still holds. Take you... Menagerie with you." 

There's a brief moment of silence where Ginny thinks she's going to have to blast the overly aggressive dark haired captain across the room. But worry is put to rest when Aelin smirks, stands, and makes her way toward the door without so much as a, "Kiss my arse." 

Without much thought the rest of them move to do the same. 

 

* * *

 

"Where is he?" 

Fenrys understands, he does, if he were in Gavriel's shoes there wouldn't be a force on this damned earth that could stop him from finding his son. However, Fenrys is not in Gavriel's position, therefore, he can admit that perhaps the older male could... Be a bit more subtle. Nicer too, perhaps. 

Because the Galathynius girl is turning, eyes smirking, and she says, "If you are referring to sweet, darling Lorcan-" 

"You know who I'm referring to." 

He shouldn't have interrupted. 

He shouldn't have sounded so angry. 

Because now there is a wall of tall fae male between Gavriel and Aelin, and beside Rowan, an even smaller wall of fiery hair and narrowed eyes. 

Rowan? Fenrys isn't afraid of Rowan. He and Gavriel can handle Rowan, but the others? The girl? Neither of them know anything about the auburn haired girl. For all they know she could be some long lost, recently reunited relative of Aelin's, Gods know she apparently has one of those already, that has a similar affinity for fire as the blonde standing behind her. 

The fae male draws in a subtle breath through his nose and holds it. 

Beneath the rage that is Rowan and the anxiety, the sorrow, that is Gavriel and the building annoyance that is Aelin there is... Something else. Something foreign. It's not sweet exactly, but it's not a foul smell either. It's like the pretty blue flowers that bloom in Mountain Meadows. Sweet but not overly so, musky with the subtle tang of something dangerous. 

"Isn't the better question _who is he_?" Aelin snarls. 

And it's a good point. 

Gavriel has been trying to learn the identity of his son since Rowan, the cunt, revealed it to him. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to come up with anything before now and instead of asking nicely he'd taken a more aggressive approach. Not that Fenrys blames him exactly. It's pretty fucking obvious the boy's actively avoiding him when his scent is fresh and lingering to the clothes of his cousin and the auburn haired girl. 

"You don't get to decide when and where and how you meet him." Aelin snaps. 

"He's my gods damned son. I think I do." Is the clipped retort, the pained retort. 

Honestly, Fenrys should pull him away before things get ugly. Before Rowan or Aelin or, Gods forbid, the auburn haired girl do something that'll end up causing Gavriel more pain. 

But he doesn't. 

He's not that kind a male. 

And Aelin shrugs. "You don't even get to decide if you're allowed to call him that." 

Something in Gavriel's face must come across too threatening for Rowan's liking because the male shifts a bit to put himself between the auburn haired woman and Gavriel. It's then, when the girl's eyes flick to Rowan and some of the tension drains from her face, that something in Fenrys screams _threat_. Screams at him to yank Rowan away by his ridiculously short hair and let Gavriel rip his liver out. 

"Tell me where my son is. _Now_." Gavriel snarls, the scent of his rage and his sorrow and his fucking regret a thick, congealing mass that blots out all other scents in the hall. 

It would be enough to tell anyone with half a brain to do as he says, to not risk angering him further, obviously Aeling fucking Galathynius would be the exception. Because she just picks at her nails before frowning at something behind them. 

"Hell if I know where he's gone off too," She remarks and Fenrys almost laughs when he realizes the shifter is gone, "Don't ever give me orders." 

 _Fuck_ , he thinks in lieu of laughter, _fuck_. 

Of course this would be there fucking plan. Why are any of them surprised. Why is Gavriel so fucking surprised when he knows that his son isn't ready to see him. Isn't ready to dig up any old emotions or feels that he'd probably buried to keep the hurt in check after his mother had died and after his family was slaughtered. Why would he want to see Gavriel right now? When everyone and their fucking mothers can witness it. 

Fenrys wants to hit Gavriel, or maybe curl his fingers around the older male's shoulder, he does neither. Instead he watches as Aelin and Rowan storm off down the hall, instead he watches as jade-flecked-honey eyes drag over Gavriel's form before darting down his own. 

Instead he watches, and pushes away the urge to follow, as the young queen's new ally disappears down the hall. 

"Lets get a drink." Fenrys says, not seeing a point to standing in a now empty hall. 

Gavriel doesn't fight him when Fenrys pulls him to the bar and Fenrys doesn't say anything when the other male orders the strongest liquor on the shelf and drinks straight from the fucking bottle. 


End file.
